Lachrymosa
by Gothika Faerie
Summary: In a surprising twist of events, Frollo comes to a decision that results in devastating regret. Warning: Dark and has character death. Songfic.


Title: Lachrymosa

Summary: In a surprising twist of events, Frollo makes a decision that results in devastating regret. Shortly taken after 'Hellfire'. Yes, this is a songfic.

Genre: Tragedy/Romance

Rated: T for blood and dark content

A/N: This is rather depressing. Please read and review. I do hope nobody isn't OOC in this. Lyrics are in italic.

Frollo lifted his limp body of the cold, stony floor. The fog had finally lifted before his very eyes. He loved that gypsy. He wouldn't be able to be contented with his life if he didn't have the gypsy at his disposal. Despite his immense wealth, his spacious grand mansion and his highly respectable position and authority, he wasn't satisfied. Unless, she loved him. She clearly didn't. Her defiance towards him had been plain to see. Oh, Maria, why her of all the women out there? Why a feisty, rebellious gypsy girl?

Frollo strolled back to the window lethargically. The song that embodied all his rapturous and unwavering passion for the gypsy girl had winded him. He felt like a 10-ton steel weight was resting on his thin shoulder blades. He was sapped of all his energy. The fireplace barely gave him any solace, only a listening ear. It was true; nothing could compare to the lovely company of Esmeralda. He leaned against the window for support. _La Esmeralda._

Her exquisite name was perched on his thin, cold lips. He daren't say it, even to mouth it. For the very mention of her name struck a chord in the judge's weak, love-sapped heart. Love no longer came to him naturally. Saying a girl's name was awkward for him. Yet, he still thought of her. Her voluminous raven hair. Her glimmering emerald eyes. Her perfectly plump rose petal lips. Her goddess-like, scorchingly sexy curves. Her. Esmeralda. Oh, the visions plagued his mind. The embers of the fire had depicted her dancing seductively, teasing him all the while. Oh how he loved and wanted her!! Only to be beaten down and spurned.

_Out on your own,_

_Cold and alone again._

_Can this be what you really wanted, baby?_

She despised him. He could never accept that fact. But she did. She hated him with a strong vengeance. How could she hate him? After living a loveless life of boring routines and deprived of happiness, he had finally found the one person that could make him happy for once. But she didn't want to have any part of it. Oh God, why are so cruel? To have Frollo fall for the one girl that tempted and awakened him only to have said girl loathe him. Frollo gripped the windowpane tighter. His knuckles strained but he didn't care. He was too frustrated and enraged by his dilemma. Esmeralda was opium. She had intoxicated him and now he yearned for more. The fire had showed him, showed him how she could play his emotions. Playing his emotions to the point of him thrown into a delusional nightmare. He had even tried to embrace her smoke figurine when it emerged. He had loved her too much.

Frollo's eyes narrowed. His body now shook with rage. His love for her was destroying him. He never enjoyed true love. Yes, he had some previous liaisons but there was no love. Love was a weakness to Frollo. All it did was break you down and carry the shattered pieces in the wind. That's what was happening now. Esmeralda was shattering him. He was going to the seventh level of Hell for this. He had sinned terribly. To harbor deep, strong passionate and sensual feeling towards a heathen was a horrible sin. Frollo sighed, frustrated. God was probably looking down on him. Him, God's most loyal servant. Esmeralda had destroyed him.

_Blame it on me,_

_Set your guilt free._

_Nothing can hold you back now._

Frollo had vowed he would burn down all of Paris if he couldn't have her as his. Looking down at Paris, he saw _them_. The heathens. Scurrying around, stealing goods. Frollo scoffed. Filthy beggars! He had prided himself on ridding the Earth of this scum. Ironically, Esmeralda was one of them. A migraine began to grip Frollo and he grasped his temples. He couldn't stare anymore. He decided to retire for the night.

Once in the comfortable surroundings of his bedchamber, he removed his robe and doublet, as well as his hose. He took a good look at his reflection. He was not a young man anymore. He had advanced through the years rather well. His skin held a pale gothic pallor. His eyes were no-nonsense and deadpanned. His cheekbones were incredibly prominent. Fine lines had developed around his eyes and at the corners of his pale, thin lips. The lines weren't really visible but they were there. His hair had thinned a little and was now a light elegant steel grey.

His overall body frame had thinned out a little. His shoulders were still broad. His arm muscles shrunk a bit. His fingers were spindly as well as his neck. His back was starting to give him spasms, despite it being hard muscle. His ribs were starting to show. He was no longer in his prime. He was already a middle-aged man. And what was he? Still single, lonely and lovelorn?

He was probably better off dead. Dead? Frollo shook the sinful thought out of his mind. What ever came over him? He shouldn't be thinking that way. It was God's decision if he were to die now. He slipped on his pristine white nightgown and laid himself on his silken sheets. Sleep didn't fall over him. He just lay there, staring holes into the ceiling. Esmeralda was plaguing his dreams. He would often reach out and try to embrace her as he had in the fireplace. But it would either be thin air or his pillow. He was in the depths of despair.

He was tired but sleep never came. He thought of his psychotic vow. Burning down all of Paris. Was it really worth it? If Esmeralda still hated him? Frollo was aghast. If his efforts were all in vain, he would be committing numerous sins by endangering so many lives. He wasn't sure if he could sacrifice that. He would kill off so many innocents in his love drunk state. Was it really worth it? Or should he…

No! He couldn't possibly think to…It was a horrible sin. Yet, finally he would be free of his mindless love of Esmeralda and nobody would be hurt. Except for him. Besides, all he would experience was a sharp stab of pain and then, nothing but peaceful bliss. Was he willing to do it though? Making a decision, he sprung out of bed. He rummaged his drawers. He pulled out a piece of parchment. He sat at his desk. Dipping his quill pen in the ink, he began scribbling a lengthy letter of forgiveness and love. After finishing it off in a flourish, he folded it up and wrote on the back, _'For La Esmeralda's Eyes Only'_.

Gripping the letter in his hand, he went to his cupboard and pulled out one of his many swords. He dutifully walked to the fireplace. Peering into it, he whispered. "I will always love you, Esmeralda". His last words. Tightening his grip on the sword's handle, he lifted it up and slammed it straight into his weak, beating heart.

His piercing scream echoed throughout the mansion. Blood immediately spurt out of the wound. It stained the purity of his white nightgown. So much blood. A heartless man's heaving body had possessed so much of it. Frollo went limp and fell to his knees. The sword was embedded deeply in his heart, draining it of blood and oxygen. The blood fell in droplets onto the cold, stony floor. Yet Frollo seemed happy at the sight. His world was soon enveloped in darkness. No more torment. No more pain and suffering. No more injustice. Just peace and quiet. The judge exhaled one final time before crumpling in front of the fireplace. His last thought was '_Forgive me,_ _Maria_.'

_Now that you're gone,_

_I feel like myself again._

_Grieving the things I can't repair and willing..._

News of Judge Claude Frollo's death spread like wildfire. He had been discovered by an unfortunate maid whom, after noticing he was not in his bedchamber, decided to look for him. She was greeted by the grotesque sight and had fainted. Soldiers' thought it to be murder but physicians soon announced it had been suicide. Death by the judge's own hand. Many words passed between folks on why the good judge might wish to end his life. The only evidence was a letter found, gripped tightly in the judge's stiff, dead hand. A letter addressed to a certain gypsy girl.

Speaking of the devil, the said gypsy girl was at a lively celebration thrown in the Court of Miracles. Now, that their one true antagonist was no longer around, the gypsies were having the time of their lives. The men were drinking whiskey and rye. The women danced and entertained. Clopin was leading everyone in the festivity. He was laughing, telling jokes, recounting bad memories of the judge's cruel rule over them and how they were finally free. The gypsies applauded and continued to party. All except for one gypsy. That gypsy was busy sitting in a remote alley in the Court of Miracles.

Esmeralda knew she should be joyful. That wretched, merciless man was no longer around. Yet, she couldn't help but feel that his suicide was partially her fault. Twiddling her fingers, she wondered if Frollo blamed her for this. Djali tugged at her skirt, wanting Esmeralda to join in with all the flamboyant festivity. The gypsy girl smiled and patted her goat lovingly on its head. However, the huge feeling of guilt still hadn't left her heart. Was it really all her fault? Her thoughts were broken when she heard the slow galloping of hooves. She looked up.

It was Phoebus. The man that she had fallen for. Now, looking at him, Esmeralda couldn't feel any happiness. Her heart was now a hollow shell. Phoebus got down from his steed and looked at Esmeralda despondently. He could tell Esmeralda was down. He didn't want to make her any more depressed but…orders were orders. He pulled out a letter from his pocket and presented it to her dutifully.

"I can't read," She muttered, embarrassed. Phoebus then proceeded to read to her. What she would hear would leave feeling regretful for life.

_Dear La Esmeralda,_

_I am writing this to you because after this you shall never see me again. I will be with God by the time this reaches your ears. Truth be told, gypsy, when I first saw you, I knew you had my heart. I never wanted to admit since I had always looked down upon your kind as if they nothing but a common vulgar herd. I constantly reminded myself of this painful fact but I still could resist you and your charms. The carefree way you dance makes my heart flutter. The love you show to everyone, even Quasimodo, secretly touched me. I envied everyone you loved. Because you never showed me even an ounce of love. My love for you practically destroyed me inwardly. I had never loved anyone so dearly before. _

_But you, you made me want to love again. However, no matter how much I loved and admired you, I was always greeted by your abhorrence of me. And I don't blame you for that. After all my mistreatment of you and your people, I knew I had it coming. But I was selfish. I only wanted you and you were to be mine and mine alone. I even considered burning all of Paris if you didn't show me a smidgen of your love. But then, I wondered if it was worth it. Was it worth killing so many innocents if you still never loved me? I thought the same way too, Esmeralda. _

_That's why I considered a second option. Taking my own life seemed a whole lot less harmful, painful and dangerous. Besides you and your gypsy friends will not have to fear for your lives any longer. Quasimodo will now be able to have the freedom he always desired. Please be a good friend to him. Teach him all I should've taught him. You all can roam free as you please now. Do not feel sorry, my dear. I believe I have finally escaped you and am now in peace. Live your life in happiness now and forget all about me. _

_I will always love you, my darling witch. _

_Yours truly,_

_Claude Frollo_

Esmeralda was terribly shaken by Frollo's letter. All this while, he had actually loved her? She never suspected it after her open rebellion towards him at the Festival of Fools. She thought she had despised her. But he had loved her. Loved her to the point of him taking his own life in order not to bring harm to her or to anyone else she cared for. Oh, she had been so wrong about everything!

_To let you blame it on me,_

_And set your guilt free._

_I don't want to hold you back now love._

She had been wrong about his feelings towards her. She had been wrong in her assumption that he was a cold, brutal, heartless man incapable of love when he had just wrote a letter detailing how strong and dangerous his love was for him. For the first time in so many years, Esmeralda got down on her knees and cried bitterly into the palms of her hands.

It had been her fault. All her fault. She should've given him a chance.

_I can't change who I am._

_Not this time, I won't lie to keep you near me._

_And in this short life, there's no time to waste on giving up._

_My love wasn't enough._

It was too late now. Standing up weakly, she took the letter from Phoebus' hands, folded it up and tucked it into her bodice. With a determined look, she walked away. She had something to take care of.

_Epilogue…_

Esmeralda was missing for the rest of the day. Clopin had gone searching high and low for her when he discovered her gone. None of the other gypsies had seen her left. Even Djali was missing. Where were they? Clopin enlisted Quasimodo's help in finding her. The hunchback was now accepted in the public's eye. He earnestly agreed in helping. Esmeralda hardly ever strayed away so far from the Court of Miracles.

Finally, when they decided they were going to throw in the towel, Quasimodo's instinct picked up. He dragged Clopin over to the cemetery. Just as he expected, Esmeralda was found, curled up on top of a grave with Djali snuggled up next to her. Clopin rushed over and nudged her. The young gypsy girl stirred from her sleep and looked around her.

"There you are," Clopin muttered. "What are you doing here in the cemetery? We're all waiting for you to dance in the celebration." Esmeralda inhaled deeply and stood up. "All he wanted was me by his side. And I have given it to him." She walked off, leaving the two confused men to follow her. Quasimodo peeked at the tombstone of the grave Esmeralda had been sleeping on. The name made him draw in a quick breath.

_Claude Frollo_

"Clopin, can I ask something?" Esmeralda quipped. Clopin nodded. Anything for his foster daughter. "I would like to visit Frollo's grave daily. And I want to dance in front of his grave after every Festival of Fools." Clopin was surprised at her demand. Still, he allowed her to do so. But not before asking why first.

"Because it was all my fault," was her simple answer.

_And you can blame it on me,_

_Just set your guilt free, honey._

_I don't want to hold you back now love._

A/N: Well there you go. Really sorry that I killed off Frollo though.


End file.
